


In the Spirit of Vengeance

by AcesOfSpade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I really don't know how to tag this right now, Minor Blood Mention, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch never fell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/AcesOfSpade
Summary: Project Vengeance is Dr. Moira O'Deoran's attempt at avenging her firing from Blackwatch 21 years ago. He is her greatest genetic achievement, though once his campaign to bring down Overwatch and Blackwatch begins, there's no telling what might happen.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, full disclosure, I don't know where this came from. I have all kinds of character notes on Project Vengeance, including an ability set, and references of both his guns which can be found [here](https://acesofspade.tumblr.com/post/613267286747381760/presenting-some-guns-i-drew-for-a-thing-im). More will be revealed about Project Vengeance as things progress.
> 
> Also shoutout to my sister for the title lol

Paris, France. The City of Love. It wouldn’t have been his first choice for his debut Talon mission, but the target he’d been sent to track down was last spotted there, so here he was, sitting in Cabaret Luna and reviewing the notes he had on his target.

Brigette Lindholm was 23, three years older than himself, and the daughter of the original Overwatch Strike Team’s chief engineer, Torbjorn Lindholm. She was Blackwatch’s newest recruit, a combination medic and engineer, after their last medic was killed on a mission. Miss Lindholm marked the sixth Blackwatch medic since the firing of Dr. Moira O’Deoran twenty-one years prior, as none of them seemed to last. He hadn’t been sent to _kill_ Miss Lindholm, simply scare her into bringing news of Talon’s new agent back to her employers.

‘New’ was a relative term, however. Project Vengeance had been with Talon since the day he was ‘born’, Moira O’Deoran’s perfect weapon against her previous employers for her unceremonious firing. At 20 years old, Talon had decided Vengeance was old enough to start the campaign he was made for. Vengeance was rarely called anything but that, to the point where it had become his name. On the rare occasion he needed to use a ‘proper’ name, like now, he was Talon O’Deoran, the son of Moira O’Deoran with no known father.

From his table in Cabaret Luna, Vengenace could see out onto the streets of Paris, where he was keeping an eye out for the orange-haired young woman. He had ordered a coffee, just to deter suspicion, and was idly listening to the Omnic on stage singing as he watched for her. The guns holstered on his left thigh and the claymores clipped to the right side of his belt were expertly hidden by his long cobalt coat, allowing for ease of access once he tracked Miss Lindholm down.

Physically, Vengeance was quite intimidating. He was 6’1” tall, with a muscled build and wide-set shoulders. His dark copper skin was umarred by scars, though if Talon kept sending him into the field, that would most likely change quickly. His bright blue eyes seemed out-of-place with his darker skin tone, as did his blond hair, but his general demeanour and posture deterred people from commenting. He wore his hair shaved on the sides, and long enough to put in a small ponytail atop his head, streaked with cobalt blue here and there. He was both strikingly memorable and easy to forget in his appearance, an interesting anomaly gained from his true parents’ genetics mixing.

Finishing his coffee, Vengeance decided he’d had enough of sitting around idly. He left some money on the table for his coffee, getting up and leaving Cabaret Luna. He took a deep breath of the fresh air outside, pulling his coat closed and buttoning up the two buttons at his midsection to help hide his weapons a little more as he began wandering Paris looking for his target.

Eventually, Vengeance found himself underneath the Arc de Triomphe, the sun sinking low over the Sienne and washing everything in a dull orange. It was there that Vengeance spotted his target, talking to a police officer in what he could tell was abysmal French. He knew what she was asking about, though why she thought a Paris cop would know where to find the elusive Widowmaker was beyond Vengeance. Widowmaker was Talon, and was the person that had taught Vengeance the French he spoke flawlessly.

Approaching the pair, Vengeance heard snippets of the conversation between the two, making sure his weapons were well-hidden from the officer before he approached fully and cut in.

“ _Excusez-moi, mad_ _emousielle, officier,_ ” Vengeance said in a sweet tone that was completely foreign to him. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I believe I can be of assistance to the young lady,” he spoke up, a fake but pleasant smile on his face.

“You have information on the Widowmaker?” Brigette asked hopefully, her Swedish accent coming through even as she spoke French.

“I do,” Vengeance nodded. “If you would kindly let this officer go back to his job, I can tell you all I know,” he offered, planning on doing nothing of the sort. It was the perfect opportunity to get Miss Lindholm alone and complete his mission.

“Thank you,” Brigette smiled brightly. “Merci, Officer Huberdeau.”

The cop just nodded, wandering away to return to his patrol. Vengeance smiled almost menacingly at Brigette, gesturing for her to follow him somewhere a little more private.

“Asking about the Widowmaker in such a public place was not the brightest of ideas, Miss Lindholm,” Vengeance said darkly.

“How do you know who I am?” Brigette asked in alarm, reaching for the rocket flail she hadn’t bothered taking with her.

“I know quite a bit about you, Brigette,” Vengeance smirked, blue eyes darkening. “I know you’re the newest medic in a long line for Blackwatch, that you are 23 years old, and that your father was part of Overwatch’s original strike team 30 years ago,” he listed off, enjoying the way she shifted uncomfortably.

“How do you know all of this?” Brigette demanded, looking scared.

“I have my resources, Miss Lindholm,” Vengeance said cryptically, removing one of his guns from its holster. It was a revolver, a Raging Hornet, made of cobalt blue steel. Silver cursive etched into the barrel read ‘Executioner’, while the grip was modelled after a guillotine. “And I have my allies, who wish to send a message to your employers: Vengeance will come for Overwatch and Blackwatch, and nothing will get in his way,” he grinned evilly, pulling back the hammer on Executioner and firing one round right into Brigette’s shoulder.

“It was lovely meeting you, Miss Lindholm. Talon sends their regards,” Vengeance smirked, pulling a grappling hook out of his pocket and using it to disappear into the sunset.


	2. Reporting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigette has her shoulder checked out, then has to report to her commander about what happened.

Brigette was in pain. Of course she was in pain, someone just put a fucking _bullet_ in her _shoulder_ , just because she was working for Blackwatch. How did he even know about that? She’d only had the job for a few months at that point. Nothing made sense at that moment, and all she wanted to do was get back to Zurich and have Angela or Zenyatta patch up her shoulder.

“Hey Lena? I need a lift,” Brigette said into her comm, holding a hand over her shoulder to stop the bleeding.

“Everything alright, love?” Lena asked in response, though she was most likely flying lower to pick her up.

“I was _shot_ ,” Brigette grit out through the pain. “By a Talon agent, I’d wager. Hurry up, please.”

“Talon? What was Talon doing in Paris?” Lena frowned, her plane coming into view.

“Looking for me, apparently,” Brigette frowned right back, moving her hand to check the bullet wound again.

“Why would Talon want to send someone to shoot you?” Lena asked, landing near Brigette so she could board the plane.

“Something to do with some old Blackwatch medic, Moira O’Deoran I think,” Brigette frowned. “Let’s just get back to Zurich as fast as possible. I can’t treat this myself, so I’ll need Ang or Zen to do it for me.”

“Right-o, Brig,” Lena nodded, taking off again and heading for HQ.

* * *

Once back at HQ, Brigette was carted off to the medical bay, where Zenyatta offered to take a look at her shoulder. He had her sit on one of the beds, an Orb of Harmony floating next to her to dull the pain as he inspected her shoulder.

“What were you shot with?” he asked in his usual soothing tone.

“A revolver. More high-tech than Peacekeeper, but still a few decades old,” Brigette answered, wincing slightly as one of Zenyatta’s metal fingers poked at the bullet wound. “Couldn’t guess at the calibre before he shot me with it though.”

“I see,” Zenyatta hummed, his forehead array flickering as he concentrated on her shoulder. “Have you told Commander Reyes what happened yet? He will want to know.”

“I came to you as soon as Lena brought me back,” Brigette shook her head. “I wanted the bullet dealt with before talking to Gabe. Lost a lot of blood on the flight to some rags. I did what I could, but I’m still new to this whole ‘medic’ thing, and bullet wounds should not be treated on one’s self,” she reasoned.

“I understand,” Zenyatta nodded, having carefully removed the bullet while she was talking. “Dr. Ziegler and I still have much to teach you, but that is alright.”

“I appreciate the help, Zenyatta,” Brigette smiled, wincing as Zenyatta began stitching up the hole left behind by the bullet.

“Of course, Miss Lindholm,” Zenyatta smiled as he finished stitching her up and grabbed some bandages to cover the stitches with. “Come see myself or Dr. Ziegler in a few days to check on these stitches,” he instructed as he bandaged the stitches.

“I will, Zen. Don’t worry,” Brigette nodded, sliding off the bed. “Now, I gotta go face the bossman. Wish me luck!” she sighed.

“Good luck, though I do not believe you will need it,” Zenyatta chuckled, retrieving his Orb of Harmony as she left.

The walk to Gabe’s office was spent in silence for Brigette as she tried to figure out what she was going to tell him. He knew she’d be shot, thanks to her immediate visit to the medical wing, though she was struggling to figure out how to explain the circumstances behind her being shot. She’d have to tell him that she was being sloppy, and that never went over well.

With a heavy, nervous sigh, Brigette knocked on Gabe’s door and was called inside by the gruff voice of her commander.

“Care to tell me how you ended up _shot_ , Brigette?” Gabe asked flatly, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was asking around about Widowmaker, like you sent me to do,” Brigette began nervously. “I was talking to an officer near the Arc de Triomphe, and some guy came up and said he had information that might help me. He didn’t seem suspicious, so I followed him. I only got the feeling something was wrong when he addressed me by name and started talking about Blackwatch. By that point, it was too late to run, and I went in without my flail,” she explained. “He shot me in the shoulder after giving me a message to bring back to Overwatch, then disappeared.”

“What was the message?” Gabe frowned.

“‘Vengeance will come for Overwatch and Blackwatch, and nothing will stand in his way’,” Brigette recited. “Before he left, he said Talon sends their regards, so I think he’s one of theirs.”

“Moira,” Gabe muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This has to be Moira’s doing. You’re dismissed.”

As Brigette left Gabe’s office, she could hear him cursing in both English and Spanish about ‘damned geneticists’ and ‘fuckig Irish bitch’, which caused her to frown.


	3. Gaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning to Rialto and giving his debrief, Vengeance spends some time playing video games before another mission is assigned to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the short side in my opinion, and it's fairly light-hearted, so have fun with it.

After dealing with Miss Lindholm, Vengeance disappeared over the Paris rooftops with his grappling hook until he was at his rendezvous point with Amelie. She was lounging at one of the outside tables of a cafe, waiting for him to return.

“How did it go, _petit_?” Amelie cooed when she saw him, putting down her tablet.

“Quite well, actually,” Vengeance grinned. “She made it easy to get her alone and shoot her.”

“Wonderful,” Amelie smiled , getting up from the table. “Let us return, non? Your mother will be pleased to hear of your success.”

“Of course she will,” Vengeance nodded, though he felt something gnawing in his stomach that might be regret, he wasn’t sure. He completed his first mission, so why was he feeling regret?

* * *

Back at the Rialto base, Vengeance was shuffled off to debrief his mother and Akande on his mission, which was done with no emotion in his voice. He felt something crawling under his skin as he reported back, though he tried to hide how he felt about it. Something wasn’t sitting right with him about this mission, but Talon didn’t care about _feelings._ Talon cared about _results._

Once he was done debriefing, he disappeared into his room, where he found Sombra, the only person he really considered a friend within Talon. She was only 10 years older than Vengeance himself, making her the closest to him in age by a wide margin. She was a brilliant hacker, but she didn’t talk much about her past.

“How’d it go, _mijo_?” Sombra asked, sitting cross-legged on Vengeance’s bed with a tablet in hand.

“I shot her,” Vengenace said, rolling his desk chair away from his desk to sit on near the bed. “I don’t know why, but I feel _bad_ for shooting her.”

“ _Mijo_ ,” Sombra sighed, putting her tablet down and scooting closer to him. “You don’t have to agree with what Talon does, or what they make you do. I’m only here because I owe them a debt, but you? You had no choice but to be here. You don’t have to agree with them, but if you just listen for a little longer, you might get free reign to question them,” she soothed, placing a hand on his knee comfortingly. “You are more than what Talon wants you to be, Arthur. Always remember that.”

“Thank you, Sombra,” Vengeance smiled almost sadly. It was nice, having someone call him Arthur. He liked the name Arthur, preferred it over anything Talon called him, but Sombra was the only person he could get to call him that. “Want to play something? I need to shoot something that isn’t real.”

“I’ve got _so many_ remastered shooting games,” Sombra grinned, returning to her tablet to queue them up. “Call of Duty, Halo, Apex Legends, Rainbow Six, take your pick.”

“Let’s go Modern Warfare,” Vegeance decided, grabbing the controllers he kept on his desk and tossing one to Sombra.

“Excellent choice,” Sombra grinned, bringing up the game and casting it to the TV for them to play. “You’re going down, _mijo_ ,” she taunted, sitting on the edge of the bed so she was closer to the TV.

“We’ll see, _hermana_ ,” Vengeance grinned. “I’ve been practicing, just for the chance to beat you.”

They played for hours, trying to one-up each other the entire time. In the end, it was Sombra that won, as usual.

“You cheated!” Vengeance cried over-dramatically, throwing his controller onto his bed.

“Hacker, remember?” Sombra grinned with a laugh, poking Vengeance’s nose playfully. “Never play video games with a hacker.”

“One day, Sombra, I _will_ beat you,” Vengeance said in determination, furrowing his thick blond brows to show how serious he was.

Their bickering was cut short by someone knocking on Vengeance’s door, drawing him out of his chair to answer it. On the other side of the door was his mother, poised as ever, with a tablet in hand.

“You have a new mission,” Moira said simply, handing him the tablet. “Captain Jesse McCree, Blackwatch’s second-in-command.”


	4. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse McCree is looking for the man that shot Brigette. Will he find him?

Jesse McCree was a lot of things: a cowboy at heart, a Captain of Blackwatch, a gunman, a son, a brother. One thing he wasn’t, however, was scared of an unknown. Whoever had shot Brigette was still out there, and Jesse intended to find him. Brig had given a description of the man, so Jesse was combing all kinds of resources to find a match. Nothing had come up so far, so he decided to take a more in-person approach. The man that had shot Brigette was last seen in Rialto, so that’s where he’d start.

The last time Jesse had been in Rialto had been to bring in Antonio Bartalotti over twenty years ago, but nothing seemed too different from then. He navigated the streets and canals easily, Peacekeeper hanging from his belt where it usually was and his hat perched low over his eyes as he looked around. He had a composite sketch of the man on a tablet that he was showing people, asking around about him to see if anyone knew anything.

So far, he’d come up empty, and he was about to give up when he heard the sound of a gunshot nearby. Taking Peacekeeper out of her holster, Jesse ran towards the gunshot to find the man he was looking for holding a beautiful black steel revolver that looked centuries old, standing over the crumpled body of a young woman with blonde hair.

“Heard you were looking for me,” the man smirked dangerously, and something about him seemed oddly familiar to Jesse, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I am. You shot my friend back in Paris,” Jesse drawled, keeping Peacekeeper aimed at the guy in case he tried anything funny. “Mighty insulted by that, just so you know. Brig’s a good kid. Why’d ya have to go an’ shoot her like that?”

“I had my orders,” the man shrugged casually, the gun in his left hand pointed towards Jesse. “Just like I do now.”

“Lemme guess, my turn to get shot?” Jesse wagered casually, raising an eyebrow. “Before ya shoot me, can I ask what kinda revolver you have right there? Beautiful gun, that piece.”

“This is Ghost,” the man grinned darkly. “Colt 1851 Navy, and my prized possession.”

“Shoot, that’s a Colt?” Jesse whistled, impressed. “Peacekeeper here’s a Colt too, made special just for me.”

“Such a shame to have to shoot someone with such excellent taste in guns,” the man drawled with a smirk. “Unfortunately, orders are orders. You must know that, Captain McCree.”

“I’ll tell ya what, you put a bullet in me, I put a bullet in you, sir,” Jesse stated, cocking the hammer on Peacekeeper and aiming for the guy’s shoulder. “I won’t kill ya, but it’ll hurt somethin’ fierce.”

“I wasn’t ordered to kill you, so you get to live. Shoot me if you’d like, won’t do you any favours with my boss,” the man shrugged, training Ghost on Jesse’s shoulder as well.

“Fire on three,” Jesse suggested, beginning a countdown. Once he hit ‘one’, two gunshots rang out, followed by muted curses of pain from both men.

“Tell that boss of yours that Moira says hello, by the way,” the man said, taking out his grappling hook.

“Tell ‘im that yourself,” Jesse said, reaching for a flashbang to stun the guy with before using the guy’s own grappling hook to bind his wrists. “Much obliged if you don’t fight me. Bossman’s pretty pissed you shot Brig, won’t be happy you shot me then tried to run. I’ll make this easy on ya, don’t worry.”

“You’re a quick man, Jesse McCree,” the man commented, not putting up a fight. Maybe this would be a good thing...

* * *

The man was silent the entire flight back to Zurich, though Lena made up most of the silence herself.

“You’ll have to go to medical, Jesse,” Lena commented the minute she saw the blood sluggishly dripping from his shoulder.

“No shit, Lena,” Jesse chuckled, hauling the guy onto the ship and properly handcuffing him to a seat. “Had worse though, this is nothin’.”

“I’d love to see the look on Angie’s face when you tell her you used that shoulder with a bullet in it,” Lena chided with a shake of her head. “She might shoot ya herself.”

“I can take it,” Jesse chuckled, sitting across from the man for the entire flight back.

Once back in Zurich, Jesse took the handcuffed man to the medical wing with him, as he wasn’t a complete monster. He’d have someone look him over, make sure Jesse hadn’t done too much damage to his arm.

“Three gunshots in one day,” Zenyatta hummed once he had an Orb of Harmony on both of them, working specifically on the mystery man while Angela dealt with Jesse. “I take it this is the man that shot Miss Lindholm?”

“It is, Zen,” Jesse nodded, wincing as Angela not-so-gently prodded at his shoulder.

“Jesse, why did you not try to stop the bleeding?” Angela asked with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Didn’t have anything to use,” Jesse shrugged, earning a slap from Angela.

“Do not move your shoulder!” Angela hissed.

“Sorry Angie,” Jesse said, not apologetic in the slightest. “How’s it look?”

“You were shot just above where your prosthetic meets your flesh, so the damage is minimal,” Angela stated, reaching for something to remove the bullet with. She could still see it, so getting it out shouldn’t be too hard.

“An’ how’s my victim doin’ Zen?” Jesse asked, looking over at the omnic monk and the silent mystery man.

“He seems to not be in much pain,” Zenyatta commented, having already removed the bullet and was working on patching him up. “You missed any major injuries, though he may retain a scar from the entry wound.”

“Well, patch ‘im up so I can bring ‘im to the Bossman for interrogation,” Jesse nodded, feeling the familiar prick of a suture needle in his skin. “Careful, Angie. Warn a man next time.”


End file.
